


It’s Your Love That Brings Me Home

by Orianess



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assumed Unrequited Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Mac saves Jack, Original Character(s), Rating for Jack’s potty mouth and some dark train of thought, Requited Love, a little bit of hurt!Jack, because author is a hopeless romantic dang it, but we love them anyway, they’re both a little clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orianess/pseuds/Orianess
Summary: Set at the end of Season 2 finale.Jack goes home to the ranch after Mac leaves. He tells his mom about his broken heart and finds out unrequited love stories run in the family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevcolleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/gifts), [N1ghtshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/gifts).



> So this was an idea brought up on tumblr by Nevcolleil and thethistlegirl (I’m sorry I couldn’t find your ao3 tag if it’s exsists) and it thought it was a brilliant tragic idea. I’m not good with linking, but I assure you it’s on Nev tumblr under her mcdalton tag.
> 
> Anyway the idea goes like this:
> 
> Why is Jack’s dad buried in Cali, not Texas? Could it be for a lost love, “his Mac” that he couldnt be with in life, so they’re buried together. jack’s Mom tells him everything when he shows up broken-hearted over Mac leaving.
> 
> Nev outlined the basics and I tried to stay true to her outline because it’s amazing but the last part was my doing cause I’m not great at sad endings.
> 
> Nev i hope you like this, I tried ;)

Linda Maye Dalton might not be the worlds smartest woman but if there’s anything she’s an expert in, it’s her children. May be more specifically her second oldest, Jack jr.. 

That’s why when she gets his phone call a sunny spring day on the ranch’s house phone she just knows somethings wrong. He assures her, more than once, that everything’s fine and that he’s okay, he just needs a short vacation from work. He wants to make sure she won’t mind having an extra mouth to feed, as if that’s ever been an issue before. But the fact that he’s phrasing it like he needs permission to come home has alarm bells ringing in her head. The only response she gives to that is asking if he will need to be picked up at the airport or does he plan to rent a car?

And then when he shows up on their porch in jeans, a washed out Metallica shirt, he’s carrying a tired old military duffel bag and an even tireder smile, Linda wants to know who’s ass she going to have to kick for putting that look on her son’s face.

Jack doesn’t say much at first, just makes himself at home. He sleeps in his old room for the first two days, like he hasn’t slept in years. When’s he too rested or restless for sleep, he wanders out to the stables to check out the horses and look for busy work chores to keep himself moving. She’s certain he’s brushed down and groomed every horse they have at least twice.

When the family sits down for dinner, Jack’s older sister and her kids and his younger brother who stayed home to help Linda run the ranch, they all chat about this and that. Linda notices Jack doesn’t eat much and his words are quiet, like if he speaks to loud some enemy will come down on their little dining room table to challenge him to a fight. Jack’s never been quiet, not in moments like this. It makes her want to cry.

She knows the look of a haunted, hurting man. She married one after all and despite her husband being dead for almost eleven years now, she remembers the look all too well. Hates more that she can see it so easily in the way her son moves and breathes, had hoped that kind of pain died with Jack sr.. 

She asks Jack several times if he needs anything but he always hugs her and tells her, he’s got what he needs right here in his arms. The fact that he admits he needs his mother’s touch so willingly has her almost willing to twist-pinch her boy’s ear til he spills what’s bothering him so badly. 

But she won’t do that. Not yet.

She works with spooked and anxious horses for a living, after all. She can be patient and wait for him to come to her.

But as it turns out she doesn’t end up waiting that long, because she finds out the problem when she scares herself to death at almost 3am walking in on Jack drinking coffee in the silence of her darkened kitchen.

She just manages not to scream when he announces himself before she flips on the light.

“S’just me, Momma.” 

Despite the warning, she jumps a little at his voice but it’s worth the near heart attack she almost had when he chuckles at her startled gasp.

“Jack, Christ’s mercy, you gave me a heart attack! What are you doing up at this hour?” She asks softly as the light flickers on and shows Jack seated at her small kitchen bar, table nursing a porcelain cup of dark coffee.

He shrugs, a waning smile hides against his coffee cup as he takes a drink. “Couldn’t sleep, made some coffee. What about you? Even the roosters would give you hell for tryin’ to feed them at this time of day.”

“One of the filly’s, Cassie, is due to foal any day now. Woke up and thought it couldn’t hurt to check. Wanna come with ?” She lies, she’d woke up because she thought she heard someone (Jack apparently) moving around downstairs and decided to check it out but Jack doesn’t need to know that.

He grins and finishes his coffee by throwing the remainder back like a whiskey shot, wiping his mouth and sighing in exaggeration.

“You’ve been awake for five minutes and you’re already puttin’ me to work, woman?”

She laughs softly as she slips on her shoes and a coat over her flannel pajamas. “Gotta take advantage of the extra hands when they’re here.” 

He stifles a laugh and it might be the first one she’s heard since he came home.

He follows her out and they walk out to the stables in easy silence, stride for steady stride. It’s only the crunch of the dry gravel underfoot announcing their approach, the stars and half moon the only light they need.

They go stall to stall checking on the horses, most of which barely acknowledge them either for sleep or lack of interest.

The filly in question is asleep when they look in on her but her swollen belly is twitching regularly, causing Jack and Linda to share a look.

“Be time real soon.” He tells her quietly and she nods.

“Yup. Good thing we checked.”

“You mean good thing you have a sixth sense for everything happening on the farm?”

She chuckles, “it’s a mom thing, honey. We’re a force of nature. Like you, Whirlwind.” She adds the last, her pet name for Jack when he was growing up and he smiles at his feet, a little shy.

“Hadn’t heard you call me that in a long time.”

“I’ll call you that more often if you showed up in person a little more often.” She pokes him in the shoulder and he goes over like she shoved him with all her might, like she could ever really move him.

He sighs, “I know. Maybe I’ll be here more often, anyway.”

She watches him silently for a moment, letting those words hang there like bait to draw him out, hoping he’ll explain it. When he doesn’t she decides to press her luck.

“Does that mean you’re gonna tell me what has you hiding out here?”

“M’not hiding.” He grouses and he looks truly offended, glaring into the stall, eyes still laser locked on the horse they came to check. “A man can’t just come home for a little while?”

“Whirlwind, you know you can come home whenever ya like, but I know you baby. You don’t get this quiet unless you want to hide something. Daltons don’t run from anything but you-“

“I’m not the one who ran away-!” he growls hotly, smacking one hand on the stall door and turning as if to stomp away but he doesn’t. He chances looking up and as his eyes meet Linda’s she sees that they’re full of tears.

“Who ran away then?” She asks softly, and Jack shakes his head, blinking furiously and taking in a deep breath like he can hold back his pain forever if he keeps pushing it down.

Linda steps forward and rests a hand on Jack’s cheek and he squints his eyes shut like he’s in agony, a soft choked noise breaking off as he leans into her hand.

“Jackie, who was it?”

“Mac...” he whispers and that’s all it takes.

Jack’s knees go out and he’s suddenly kneeling in front of his mother, his face pressed into both hands, shoulders shaking with almost silent sobbing at her feet. She kneels with him and wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, holding him the way she had when he was a child and had come home with scraped knees. He just stays there trembling, trying not to fall apart, taking one gasping breath after the other. After a minute of him trying to desperately reign himself in, she runs a hand up and down the muscled column of his spine and tells him the only words she thinks he needs to hear right now.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let it go.”

And, finally, Jack does. 

He wraps his arms around Linda and doesn’t bother to stifle the way he cries against her shoulder the way he had when he was a toddler, face burrowed against the side of her neck where she can feel a cascade of hot tears and full-body broken sobs. She holds him tighter, running a hand through his hair, letting her nails scratch softly at his scalp, whispers soothingly in his ear that she’s got him and she won’t let go, because that’s all she can do. She holds him through the hurricane of his grief and waits for the storm to pass.

She doesn’t know how long they stay kneeling on the stable floor, long enough for her old knees to be sore as hell, but it doesn’t matter. After a long while Jack’s broken, gut wrenching sobs die off into quiet whimpering and then eventually sniffling and exhausted hiccuping-gasps for air. When he pulls back, he’s completely boneless in her arms, like it’s only her strength keeping them sitting upright.

“M’sorry.” He whispers, rubbing at his face and tears stains with a wry little smile, trying and failing to mask the agony she had just witnessed so intimately.

“Never be sorry for having a heart, my sweet boy. It’s what makes you you, honey, okay?” 

He nods and wipes at his eyes and she thumbs away a final tear as it escapes, defiant like her Jack. He gives her a thin watery smile for it, and leans into her hand when she rests it against his cheek.

She manages to get Jack up and moving and headed toward the house. They drink a cup of coffee in silence and when they sit there after she asks him for the story.

And he gives her one.

It’s a story about a young man he cares about very much, how he’s tried so hard to look out for and been looked out for in return. He tells her about the hunt for an absentee father in a world of spies and traitors and puzzles. He tells her about the traps and the danger, the fear and the suspicion. He tells her about the young man leaving and taking Jack’s heart with him. He doesn’t say it exactly like that but she can read between the lines.

When he’s done, he looks like five miles of bad road in the badlands.

He looks up at her, eyes still the tiniest bit red from his earlier release of emotion in the barn and sighs a sound so world-weary she feels it echo in her bones.

“I don’t know how to do any of this anymore without him, mom.” He says at last quietly, eyes closing like he’s ashamed to say it out loud. “I don’t want to do this without him.”

She waits to see if he’ll say anything else and when he doesn’t she rests her hand on his, stroking the knuckles gently.

“Honey, does he know you love him?”

Jack shrugs and shakes his head a little, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“You’ve never told him?”

“Was always afraid of the answer. Was afraid to lose him forever, if he didn’t want me back. Guess I’ve got my answer though...” Jack says sadly, frowning at his empty coffee cup like it’s the source of all these issues.

“What do you mean?”

“He left, Momma. Not so much as a goodbye or a go to hell or anything. Just gone, into the wind. Don’t think anyone can just leave someone behind they actually love that easy.”

And Linda feels deja vu smack her in the back of the head with a baseball bat. 

“Jack, wait right here a moment okay? I’ll be right back.” 

She doesn’t waste any time, heading into the first floor office and digging in the back of the deep desk drawer for a large stuffed manilla envelope, ready to change her son’s mind.

She comes back out and sets it down in front of him and she can read the ‘what am I doing with this’ in his one raised eyebrow. He lifts the packed envelope into his hands delicately and traces the outline of two neatly spelled words: for Jack.

He opens it and out slides a stack of letters, on various types and colors of notebook paper. The handwriting style is the exact same on every page, some letters look extra worn and thin from being folded and refolded over time. They smell like a library from long ago, dusty and dry. There are a few faded old pictures too. The one that catches Jack’s eye is a photo of two men in military uniform, relaxing against the side of a battle-worn Vietnam helicopter, both smiling broadly at the camera mid-laugh. Jack recognizes his father on the left, but doesn’t know the other man.

Linda finds the important letter by the feel of the frayed paper that she and her husband had handled so many times, know that this is the one Jack needs to read.

When she gives it to him she can see him reading it carefully, watches him mouth the words she memorized long ago, could recite by heart.

 

Hey Jack 

I’m sorry you’ll get this too late for us to have a conversation in person. Every letter I ever wanted to give you is in here and they say everything I never had to courage to say to your face, even though you definitely deserved to hear it and more.  
I’m sorry I never told you the truth. Im sorry I couldn’t love you just as a brother. I’m sorry the only way I could make sure I didn’t hurt us both was to put half a country between us.  
I’m not sure how you feel about me, always wondered after that rainstorm in Cam Ranh, where the lightening and the napalm wasn’t the only thing that kept us awake that night.  
I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear it but I love you man. Can’t help myself, never could when it came to you. And I would understand if you burned this letter when you’re done reading it but just in case you feel the same, I wanted to write it down for you.  
I want you to have a black and white real thing that proves that I loved you.  
I love you, Jack Dalton.   
I loved you from the first day in basic when the Sarge made us scrub toilets because you couldn’t keep your dumb jokes to yourself.   
I loved you when I was your best man at your wedding to Linda.  
I love you still while I sit in this stupid hospital, with my kids who are wanting to know how I want to be buried (as if I’ll be present to enjoy it, HA!)  
My love for you is like the whole pure open sky above a calm perfect ocean. Endless.  
I almost told you the night you told me you were going to ask Linda to marry you.  
I almost told you the night after Jack jr. was born when you called me to cry about how scared you were that some day your boy might go to war.   
I almost told you everyday I saw you.  
But when I finally had the balls to tell you, you had a picket fence, two and a half kids and a happy marriage with a damn fine woman. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin your happy ever after for a maybe. The only way I could ensure you were safe from me was to take myself as far away as possible.  
California beaches are beautiful but they got nothing on you, Jack.  
I hope you understand.  
My kids will send the cemetery address where I’ll be buried. In case you want to visit or piss on my grave or whatever.  
And when your time comes, I hope you’ll look for me at the pearly gates my friend. I’ll be waiting for you, I’ve saved you a seat in the mess hall. Maybe, if you want, we can pick up where we left off in Cam Ranh. 

With my whole heart, here’s my only wish.  
I hope we see each other again, if not in heaven, maybe in the next life.  
I love you Jack.

Trent “Tango” Taylor

 

Linda waits patiently as Jack clearly rereads it two times before setting the letter carefully down on the pile of others and glances down at the picture.

“What the hell?” Jack whispers, eyes wide as he stares at the smiling men in the picture before turning to Linda with so many questions in his eyes.

She nods, understanding his surprise and confusion. 

“Your father received this package around the summer of 1985, roughly a week after Trent passed away from cancer. He was spectacularly drunk when I got home and read it for myself. We talked when he came around and it was a long one. He explained that he and Trent were in the same platoon for a long time, on same missions and stations regularly. They were good friends and stayed good friends even after coming home from the war. Not long after your little sister was born though, Trent moved to California and he and your father drifted apart. Your father told me he had been in love with Trent since their service days, but it wasn’t something you did back then. Certainly not in the military and most definitely not here in Texas. He was devastated to find out Trent had returned his feelings.”

Linda pauses, feeling the turbulence of those emotions from that far away conversation still aching like a barely healed wound. It had been a hard thing to hear at the time, it had hurt to hear that her Jack’s heart, at least partially, had belonged to someone else. It had hurt even more to see her stoic strong husband baring his soul to her, completely vulnerable and heart broken over a man he had loved and lost. She can very clearly remember seeing the look of despairing resignation in her Jack’s face when he had admitted he loved Trent the way he loved her, how he had fully expected her to kick him to the curb.

“Mom, you okay?” Jack asks softly, putting his calloused hand over her much smaller one. He sounds so young and worried for one brief moment, it almost makes her cry.

She clears her throat and smiles, lower lip trembling just a little. 

“Yes, baby, I am. It’s just a sensitive issue but it’s important you hear it. Anyhow, when I talked with your dad, he told me that what he felt for me was real, that me and you kids were what kept him going when Trent went away. He loved us all. He just loved Trent too. So we decided that when your father passed, we’d have him buried next to Trent. We made the arrangements as soon as possible. Your father was reluctant when we first talked about it but I simply told him, Trent generously shared him with me for this lifetime, it felt only right that he should at least have him for the next life.”

“Wow.” Jack says gently and Linda can tell its a surprised and awed comment. She wipes at her eyes and clears her throat again, and points at Jack with a stern expression.

“I always believed God had a reason for doin’ things a certain way and I think that point is very clear now. This is your only warning, Whirlwind. They both lost out on each other because they didn’t take a chance with what they always wanted to say. It left them both with a lot of heartache for a long damn time. Jack, if your father were here, he’d probably be throwing you on a plane himself to send you off to find Mac. Don’t let him walk away baby, you deserve to be happy. You deserve to try to get what you want because you want it. Love doesn’t need any other reason than that.”

Jack squeezes her hand when she’s done, letting her know he hears her, but when he looks up at her his eyes look like rain again.

“But what if Mac isn’t my Trent? If he doesn’t feel the same...?”

“Then he walks away or you work around it together. But the fifty fifty gamble here is worth the risk, sweetheart. Love is the only thing worth leaping for. Sometimes it doesn’t work out but living with a life of wishes and regrets is just as painful as being walked away from. My point is baby, if you’re going to hurt over him, you might as well make it worth your while.”

Jack nods but yawns suddenly, despite the fact that between him and Linda they had killed a whole pot of coffee, and they glance at the window where the first signs of grey-blue dawn are coming into view. Linda pulls the letters into a neat-ish pile, sliding them back into the envelope but lets Jack hang onto the pic of his father and Trent.

“Baby, why don’t you go get some more sleep. You don’t have to do anything just yet. There’s still time for you to decide.” She says warmly, standing up to wrap her arms around her boy, happy when the hug she gets in return feels more sincere and Jack-like.

He nods and hugs Linda again, a full hug followed by a kiss on the top of her head.

“Thank you Momma. I’m glad you told me.”

“You bet, Whirlwind. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jack heads off to bed and Linda heads to her room to dress and start the morning chores for the ranch. When she comes back down stairs she sees the picture still sitting on the kitchen table but a small piece of paper sitting beside it.

It’s Jack’s messy handwriting.

“Time to leap.”

She laughs and shakes her head fondly. Whirlwind is on the move again, she’s never surprised.

 

———


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to find Mac

This is... Not how he’d pictured finding Mac.

And Jack has no idea what to do with this situation.

He had come to Nigeria, had spent a long uncomfortable plane ride with the intention of getting to Mac so he could talk to him. He had planned out a hundred different ways to say what he needed to say, had thought of every little thing he might be able to say in response for any of Mac’s inevitable questions, had even let himself dream of a kiss. 

His hope had been a tidal wave sweeping him forward, faster and faster toward seeing Mac again.

But now?

He might just be drowning.

Jack’s watching Mac dance with a young woman around a bonfire at what appears to be some sort of community celebration. Mac has no idea Jack’s here, hasn’t seen him yet, Jack just got a ride in with one of the local traders, and it won’t be long til he’s noticed, he sticks out like a sore thumb here.

But he stays where he is and watches the celebration, watches people left and right come up to Mac, offering him smiles, hugs, claps on the back. They are happy to have him here and he’s happy here too if the wide grin he’s sporting is any indication. he’s at ease, he knows when he hears Mac laugh that surprisingly deep laugh of his, the one Jack always tried to make happen at every opportunity. 

The woman wraps Mac up from behind and he leans in to give her a kiss, one she quickly, easily returns and Jack can feel the exact beat his fucking heart cracks in half. 

He’s too late. Mac already has someone in his life here.

He had come here straight from Texas, his dads letter fresh in mind, some crazy notion of true love, better to have loved and lost bullshit in his head and now that he’s standing here watching Mac smile against the girl’s lips, he realizes just how ridiculous he was being.

Mac left and didn’t tell anyone where he was going because he didn’t want to be followed.

He can only imagine the disappointment in Mac’s face if he does actually get seen.

And for another matter, even if he could muster up the courage to go over there and announce himself to Mac, any declarations of love would be awkward and somewhat vindictive, in the face of that girl.

He had come here ready to wear his heart on his sleeve the way he mother had said he should but it’s standing here right now, he realizes Dad’s Trent was right about leaving.

Trent had said he had to protect Jack’s father from himself, so he could have his happy ever after. Staring at Mac as he curls himself in so as to be pressed more closely with the dancing girl, he realizes this just might be the most normal thing the kid has had in his life. Ever.

Jack can’t ask Mac to give that up, no matter how much he wants to ask him still.

Jack can’t ask him to come home because it’s very clear, Mac’s got a new home now, and one he earned all on his own terms. Jack’s old love sick heart is hardly even a consolation prize in comparison to that.

He watches the dancing for a few minutes longer, and even laughs when he sees a few members of the crowd lift Mac up on their shoulders to dance around wildly, the blonde grinning and laughing at their antics. 

He’s happy that Mac’s happy and Jack would rather eat a bullet than ruin what Mac’s got.

Jack sighs. He turns around and goes to find the trader who’d given him a ride in, hopes he won’t mind making a second trip. 

If he makes good time, he can be back in LA and drunk out of his mind before the sun comes back up.

 

—-

 

“Hey Pops. Sorry I hadn’t been by in awhile. Lots going on. Assess to kick, trainees to whip into shape, always on the knife’s edge , saving the world one punch at a time.

I went home last week, saw Mom and the crew. They’re all great, the ranch is in good hands. Jesse, Christi’s oldest is gonna start barrel racing practice. She’s so excited and everyone’s so proud of her, I know you would be too.

Damn Dad, I really miss you. You’re a good listener and all but nothing would ever take the place of a real conversation, man to man over a few brews. So um anyway I wanted to say...

Mom also told me about why you’re here. The real why. I have to say I was pretty surprised to hear it all but I want you to know I totally get it. 

Me and Mac... well...

It sounds like Trent was a really good guy. I’m sorry you guys got the short end of the stick, and didn’t get to enjoy the whole gay rights movement for yourselves. Bet you would have been really happy together if you’d had the chance. But it’s like you used to say, life deals you hands and you play what you got the best way you know how.

I’m trying to do that. But I feel like I don’t have any hands left to play. Pretty sure I don’t have anything worth anteing up for. My hand was a complete dud too. Maybe I should just fold and walk away from the table all together.

I know, I know. Daltons don’t run, we don’t quit. But I’m sorry to say I really wish I could sometimes. Maybe that’s selfish but is that really so bad?

Whatever. I just... mom told me if I was going to hurt over him I might as well make it count but it doesn’t feel like it counts for anything, ya know? Feel like a fucking idiot, god damn... 

You know for one really stupid moment I thought, it could be real. Might actually get something real I could hold onto forever. 

Hope’s a dangerous thing, Pops. It’s like jet fuel and matches, it’s fine in small doses and under control but when it gets out of hand, that shit burns everything to the ground real quick.

Wish you were really here, man. Love you Pops.

... ... ...

Hey Mr. Taylor, um Trent, do you mind if I call you Trent? I, um... I never knew who you were but I know what you did for my dad, for my family...

I want to say thank you.

I understand now how hard leaving was for you. To throw your own heart into the fire so that Dad’s whole world wouldn’t be burned to the ground. You did something amazingly selfless and brave. I know it would hurt to say it if you were really here but I think you made the right choice, walking away.

I did that too, recently. Still hurts. There isn’t enough Jim Bean in the world to make it better. 

Got any tips for how to deal with this, Trent? Don’t suppose you ever found a secrete gay admirers anon support group for dudes like us huh? Yeah, didn’t think so... 

California beaches are really something aren’t they. But you were right about those too. They got nothing on our boys, huh?

I gotta go now but I’ll stop by from time to time. Maybe I’ll tell you about my boy someday.

...

... I uh- f-for what’s it’s worth. I hope you guys f-found each other. I really do. 

Watch my old man’s six, will ya? See you Trent.

 

————

Two months later a helicopter touches down in Nigeria and a boy goes home to look for a friend who left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac finds Jack

Angus Macgyver can count off his worst top ten mistakes the way most people can recite their phone number and home address.

He’s thought about them a lot, especially during his stay in Nigeria.

Most of them are moments in the field, when he made decisions that caused someone he loved an unnecessary risk. Only three of them are personal life choices, and two of them involve Jack.

But he’s got a new number one, now. 

He knows this is his new number one regret the instant he finds Jack chained to a wall like an animal. 

Mac’s heart almost stops when they see him because he looks dead.

Jack, bare chested and hanging limply against the wall, is much too still and paler than the snow outside the Russian compound they find him in. Blood is dried and flaking on his skin, and the left side of his face is swollen and purple.

Mac is ready to light this place, and all the bastards in it, on fire for what they’ve done to his partner.

“Angus wait!” James hisses, eyes still roving the area for incoming enemies, and Mac glares at him before rushing over to Jack anyway. He came here only for Jack, he won’t be wasting another second.

He slides to his knees in front of Jack, a hand on his pulse point and the other on his chest. He’s breathing shallow, fever hot and his heartbeat is hummingbird fast, but he’s alive, just so, and that’s all Mac has time to think about.

Mac starts working on picking Jack’s shackled wrists, barely glancing at his father once in a while to make sure he’s still on point for look out. As soon as the chains come loose, Mac catches Jack when he falls forward to his knees, Jack’s head lolling to the side of Mac’s arm like a rag doll.

It’s then that he sees Jack’s back is a mess of jagged inflamed whip strikes and various mottled bruising. His skin smells like infection and the wall he came off of has smears of Jack’s blood still on it.

Mac fears for a terrible split second that he might throw up.

“Jack, wake up man.” Mac whispers urgently, a cold flush of horror creeping up his spine at the realization that when he had caught Jack, his hand had come away warm and wet and he forces himself not to look at the damage. 

Jack stirs and his eyes open a sliver, glassy unfocused brown meets Mac’s blue. He’s staring at Mac, a slack blankness to his features and he grunts, dropping his face into Mac’s shoulder to inhale at his neck.

“Wish you were real, man...” Jack says on a sigh, and Mac carefully grips the back Jack’s neck so he can pull him up enough for them to be face to face again.

“Jack, I’m really here buddy. And I need you to wake up so we can get out of here, please man, c’mon.”

“Angus we got company.” James tells him lowly, “a patrol of guards. We gotta move, son.”

Mac almost forgets himself and nearly shouts at Oversight to shut up. He keeps his attention on Jack’s beaten visage, urgently kneading at Jack’s neck to wake him.

“Jack it’s me, please, wake up. Need your help man!”

Jack’s dark eyes flutter open, blinking slowly as he tries to clear his vision, a flash of recognition and confusion. “Mac?”

“Yeah, man, I’m here. Came to get you out but I need your help.”

Jack takes in a stuttered breath and makes a sluggish shove at Mac’s arm. “Leave me, Mac.”

Ice fills Mac’s veins at the quiet order. “What?”

Jack sighs, a sound a little too strained to be annoyed, “shouldn’t be here Mac. M’dead already... S’better this way. Go home t’Africa.”

“Not leavin’, you buddy, you are my home. Now get on your feet, soldier.” Mac growls, slinging Jack’s arms around his neck and dragging him up on his feet. Jack does manage to keep his feet under him but he’s got a full sagging lean on Mac’s chest, propped precariously up only by the blonde’s strength.

“Here, help me with him.” Mac hisses at James, and glares at the older man when he opens his mouth to say something to negate the request. James nods, a little grim as he sees the state of Jack up close. They each take an arm and make a run for the courtyard, Jack slumping barely conscious between them. They steal a truck and haul ass to the exfil point with surprisingly little complication after that.

Mac adds not blowing that compound to smithereens on their way out to his regrets list, not quite top ten but close.

—-

The flight back to the Phoenix has Mac sitting beside Jack, praying for forgiveness for leaving his friend and hoping like hell they weren’t too late.

When they arrive Jack is whisked away by the medical team and Mac realizes he’s alone while he waits. 

His father left as soon as they hit the building, which is for the best considering despite his help in rescuing Jack he doesn’t have much to say to the man. He’s not alone in the waiting area per se but when Riley and Matty and Bozer show up, they don’t say anything to him , at least not at first. Their silence and distance from him in the room might as well be the Grand Canyon, and he knows that’s because of him, because he walked out on them. He doesn’t blame them. 

He wishes he knew where to start to try and apologize but he stays quiet because he probably deserves to be thrown out, so he’s not going to push his luck. 

Eventually Bozer decides he’s had enough of the awkward silence between them all and he comes to sit beside Mac, shoulders almost touching and Mac leans into him. Riley joins him at his other side, no conversation needed, just comfort in nearness.

Mac looks over at Matty and the expression she wears is as stoic as ever but he swears she gives him the tiniest smile when their eyes meet and a nod that silently says, you’re home.

When the doctor finally graces them after a long period of waiting, she explains to them just facts of Jack’s condition, (a septic infection from the wounds on his back, a broken cheek bone and cracked jaw, pneumonia from waterboarding) states that he’s critical but stable, and while he’s not out of the woods, she is hopeful for his prognosis. 

After she’s done walking them through it all Mac wants to get back on a plane to Russia and raze Jack’s torture chamber to the ground. He can’t but he wishes he could.

They all get to go in and visit one at a time, and Mac goes last, because despite being the one to get him out, he honestly feels that this is his fault. he doesn’t get to play the ‘he needs me’ card because he hadn’t cared about what Jack needed before he left, why should he get to now. He’s just grateful he’s allowed to see him at all.

Jack already looks a bit better, his face looks like it has color again, not just sickly white and purpled with bruises. He’s laying on his stomach on the laid out bed, his back bandaged and draped with a light blanket. Its only been about three hours but it’s amazing what fluids and a bed will do for a body that badly tortured.

Mac glances at the IV hooked to Jack’s arm, can see the steady flow of antibiotics working to save him one steady drip at a time.

Mac feels his heart take an impossibly hard beat as he realizes how close Jack was to dying. Again. 

He almost died because Mac wasn’t here watching his back. I watch your back, you watch mine, he had promised Jack so long ago, he couldn’t even pinpoint it in their timeline.

And why wasn’t he here? Because he ran off, like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He’s never felt so stupid and selfish in all his life.

Jack deserves better than Mac. Mac loves him more than life itself, would do anything for him, but every time he should be here to prove it, he fails. Just like now. 

Mac takes one of Jack’s limp uninjured hands and leans down to press a kiss to his knuckles. He’ll never tell Jack how he really feels, doesn’t want to lose his partner because he can’t feel things the right way, but it’s moments like these he wishes he could.

He kneels near Jack’s head, and watches his best friend, his protector, the love of his life breathe even and shallow breaths. He feels like he’s in front of a sacred alter, a place too holy and pure for the likes of Mac, so he offers the only prayer he can.

“I’m so sorry Jack. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out sooner, I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I love you and I’m sorry it’s not the right way but I mean it, I love you.” He feels the words break as he manages to stifle a sob that nearly escapes, so he clears his throat and wipes his eyes as they blur with tears.

Mac wouldn’t be Mac if he didn’t push his luck. He kisses Jack’s knuckles again and goes to stand but is stopped by warm calloused fingers twining around his.

He freezes and when he looks again, Jack’s good non-swollen eye is open and staring with the utmost clarity at their now linked fingers.

Oh shit. Jack was awake. What had he heard?

“Mac?” Jack’s voice is a whispered rasp but Mac can hear it clearly in the quiet of the room. 

“Yeah, man I’m here.”

Jack’s eye closes, he looks like he’s fallen asleep and Mac’s debating untangling their fingers when he hears that low Texas drawl rumble, “ya got nothin’ t’be sorry for.”

He heard him, he heard him say it. 

But he doesn’t sound upset or angry.

Mac feels like his heart is going to explode from the bright and terrible hope building there and he takes a chance, hoping, squeezes the fingers holding his back, just a firm little reminder.

Jack’s warm lopsided grin flutters into existence for just a moment. “got alot t’ talk about, hoss.”

Mac accepts that as a bookmark for the conversation, can see Jack’s barely holding on to awareness as it is. The blonde nods and pushes the boundary one more time, strokes his thumb across the knuckles in an up and down sweep. A promise and a comfort in one.

“I’ll be here.” Mac tells him, “as long as you want me to.”

Jack lets out a soft sigh, content and easy. “Always want you. Please.”

“I’ll be here.” Mac vows and seals it with one more gentle touch of lips to Jack’s hand. Now that the door and opportunity is open, Mac can’t seem to stop himself.

Jack’s answering smile is still visible when the nurse comes in to get vitals an hour later.

 

——

 

Jack is cleared to go home a little over a week later and they have a long conversation when they get to Mac’s place.

It’s a strange thing to start off a relationship with an argument about lines being crossed and betrayal and heartache, but it is the catalyst that brings it to light.

Hurt feelings and sadness mixed with outrage exploding into the neon neutron star of revelation.

“How long?” Jack had asked.

“Cairo? Or not long after.”

“Huh.”

“When did you...?”

“The day I got in the jeep for another tour in the sandbox with my bomb nerd with the silly hamburger name.”

“Really ?”

“Really.”

Mac always thought (dreamed) any kiss they shared for the first time would be like an explosion, fast and fiery, but it’s not. It’s like lava, so hot and slow, moving through them and between, dragging them deeper into one another. Once they start, they can’t stop, they steal each other’s air and taste ruthlessly, consuming without fear. It’s exhilarating and maddening and Mac will never let go by his own choice.

Jack eventually has to call a halt, still bodily tired and recovering from his ordeal, but he doesn’t let go of Mac either.

As they lay down to rest later, Jack tells Mac about his dad, Trent and the letter. 

They both get a little misty eyed talking about it, sharing a wet kiss for comfort.

As they start drifting toward sleep, Jack whispers on the edge of a peaceful sigh, “thanks for coming to get me. I’m glad you’re here.”

“It’s good to be home.”

And it’s true, Mac’s never felt anything more sincerely than right now. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.


End file.
